


heaven's in the backseat

by boulderuphill



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boulderuphill/pseuds/boulderuphill
Summary: “There’s no room in here," Kevin says, and tries to move his top leg to show just how tightly crammed in it is. "I can’t even move.”“Stay still, then.” With laughter in his voice, Jean tugs on Kevin’s leg and hooks it around his waist. “And let someone else do the work for once.”--or, Kevin visits Jean at USC and they make the most out of being together again.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Jean Moreau
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	heaven's in the backseat

**Author's Note:**

> you know how sometimes you just have to take a break from working on your long fics to write something completely braindead? this is that. no plot. no point. just kevin and jean getting it on.  
> thanks to the ever so lovely [essence29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Essence29) for editing and supplying some of the dialogue.

Jean and Kevin walk side by side along the beach, back towards the car. Once the sand turns into solid ground, and Kevin’s feet no longer sink with each step, he stops. They’ve spent all day on the beach, but it feels wrong to leave without giving the sea one last glance. With the sun setting, the view looks like something off of a postcard. 

“Like it?” Jean’s arms wrap around him from behind.

“Of course. It’s beautiful.” It earns Kevin a kiss, pressed lazily against his cheek. 

“You should visit more often,” Jean says then, with his chin resting against Kevin’s shoulder.

Against his back, Kevin feels the motion of Jean’s chest with each breath. In the front, Jean has begun playing with the hemline of his shirt. Before them is the most beautiful sunset Kevin has ever seen, but Jean’s focus is entirely on twirling the fabric around his fingers. Sometimes his fingertips brush against Kevin’s lower stomach. At first, it seems like a mistake, an innocent slip. But the touch lingers, grows more frequent, until Jean lets go of the shirt entirely and slides his hands underneath it. His palms are cold enough to make Kevin squirm with surprise. 

“Stop it,” he squirms as he tries to catch Jean’s wrists to pry his hands away. But Jean just wraps his arms around him until he’s captured in the embrace. 

“Stop what?” An expectant chill runs along Kevin’s spine with the sound of Jean’s feigned innocence, so close that he can feel it against his ear. He wriggles until the grasp around him loosens, and he turns around with Jean’s arms still around him. 

“Have you gotten shorter?” Jean says as soon as they are face to face, eyeing him with a pensive look. “Maybe it’s contagious, considering the company you keep.”

Kevin’s eyes are perfectly aligned with the slight bump on the back of Jean’s nose. It’s a little crooked still, a remnant of when it broke against Riko’s racquet. 

“If it is, I hope you catch it from Jeremy,” Kevin bites back. Even though Jeremy isn’t nearly as short as Andrew or Neil, he’s still almost a head shorter than Jean. It makes Jean’s chest vibrate with laughter, earnest and short. 

They linger as they are for a moment, then Jean leans down, and they are kissing.

Kevin closes his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Jean’s mouth on his. It starts innocent, with soft motions and Jean’s tongue teasing his lips. 

Then, as Kevin deepens the kiss, Jean’s hands roam from where they have settled against the small of Kevin’s back. Instead, they dip into Kevin’s back pockets, grabbing him to pull their hips closer together. 

Jean begins to move without breaking the kiss, and Kevin follows. Within a few steps, his back is against the car. As soon he leans against it, Jean’s hands slide out from behind him. Instead, he plants them on each side of Kevin’s head, like something out of a movie.

The vivid red of Jean’s jacket suits him well like this, complete with gold details and the Trojan logo over the chest. Where it hangs open, it exposes the snug fit of the shirt beneath, and Kevin can’t help but reach out to touch. Through the thin fabric, he traces the contours of Jean’s abs. 

Memories of Jean’s body in the Nest flash by, how it was little more than muscle and bone. Now it’s healthy, intoxicating in the sheer power it exudes. On the Court, it’s hidden beneath the gear, but here, like this, Kevin can feel each perfect inch against his palm.

Jean brings his hands down and takes a step closer. Against Kevin’s back presses the metal of the car, and against his front is Jean, fumbling with something right beside them. With a click, the door to the backseat opens, and Jean nudges him towards it. 

Kevin has barely sat down, half of him still outside of the car, when Jean grabs his legs and climbs between them. 

In the midst of their eagerness, it takes them a moment to straighten their bodies out. 

After some awkward shuffling, Kevin is lying along the backseat with one leg in the air and the other along the floor. On top of him, between said legs, is Jean, whose eager hands run along his torso and make his shirt ride up. 

With each motion, the exposed skin rubs against the leather of the seat. Kevin wriggles, but it’s impossible to find an angle where his foot isn’t flat against a window or seatback. 

He groans, and Jean stills. One of his hands remains beneath Kevin’s shirt. The other he uses to prop himself up a little, face still buried in the crook of Kevin’s neck. 

“What is it?” His voice is breathy, barely audible between the kisses he presses against Kevin’s throat. 

“There’s no room in here,” Kevin says, and tries to move his top leg to show just how tightly crammed in it is. “I can’t even move.” 

The hand still against his chest slides off and along his leg. On its way, it squeezes his thigh, but it doesn’t stop until it’s gripping his calf. 

“Stay still, then.” With laughter in his voice, Jean tugs on Kevin’s leg and hooks it around his waist. “And let someone else do the work for once.” 

Warmth pools in Kevin’s stomach, so he wraps his leg around Jean so it can rest against his back. 

He relaxes again, allowing shallow breaths to be drawn from his mouth with each of Jean’s movements. They’re so close, tangled together in such a tiny space. Still, Kevin reaches for Jean. His fingers tangle in his hair, longer than it has ever been, and pulls him even closer. 

Quick, hungry kisses push him further down. His back slides along the seat as Jean grinds against him. It’s amazing. 

At least until his head ends up pressed against the door on the other side of the car. 

“Jean.” He lets go of the hair to tap Jean’s back. With it, the weight on top of him shifts in a theatrical sigh.

“Yes, Your Highness?” If Jean didn’t look so good, hair standing on end and grinning like he’s never been happier with himself, Kevin would have protested against the nickname. Instead, his face grows warm and flushed, as if the heat from his chest has spilled over. 

“Remind me why we can’t go back to the dorms,” he says, surprised and a little embarrassed with how hoarse his own voice sounds. 

With Jeremy out of town, the two of them have the room to themselves. Still, here they are, squeezed into a car that is only marginally larger than the Maserati. While Kevin definitely doesn’t mind the closeness, it seems like it would be just as easy to achieve in Jean’s soft, comfortable bed. 

“Because I like you like this.” The implications of it are not lost when Jean pushes his hips down with playful force. Arousal coils in Kevin’s stomach, hot and sudden. He swallows, trying to focus on the discomfort rather than the feeling of Jean between his legs.

”Like this?” he asks in English because his brain can only manage so many things at once. ”Do you mean with my back chafed and leg cramped, growing more irritated by the second?” Dark strands of hair tickle his nose as Jean nuzzles his neck. 

”Are you irritated?” Jean’s accent is even thicker than usual, hot and breathy when his teeth brush against Kevin’s earlobe. ”What about now?” he asks. It’s playful and innocent, like he doesn’t hear the choked moan that escapes Kevin or feel his back arch beneath him. ”Or now?” Another bite, followed by Jean’s laughter so close that it overshadows the sound of Kevin’s own breaths. 

Jean’s mouth drags all over Kevin’s neck and jaw until it reaches his lips, where he plants a soft kiss. 

”We can go back if you want,” he offers. ”It’s just that Jeremy always speaks of the importance of the College Experience.” He attempts to gesture at the car, but there isn’t enough room.

Kevin grimaces. One of his arms is squeezed between Jean’s body and the backrest, hand resting inside of his jacket but on top of his shirt. With the other, he hooks a finger into one of the belt hoops on Jean’s hip.

”Getting arrested for indecent public exposure isn’t part of the College Experience.” The same moment the words leave his mouth, he knows that he has made a mistake. 

”Oh?” Jean says, unable to hide his amusement even as he attempts to appear surprised. “I didn’t know you were planning on indecently exposing yourself to me.” 

Heat climbs all the way to the tip of Kevin’s ears. He closes his eyes, just to escape Jean’s smug smile long enough for his rushing heart to calm down. 

”Shut up,” he groans, knowing exactly how red he must be. ”Don’t say another word.” 

To his surprise, Jean obliges. In the seconds it takes to collect himself, he’s spared any more taunts. When he dares to crack one eye open, Jean’s smile still hovers above him. But it’s a different, softer smile than his usual cat-like one. 

”What?” Kevin asks, both curious and grateful for the opportunity to turn the conversation on the other. 

”Nothing.” Jean shakes his head. The quickness of it makes him slip back into French, and Kevin leans up to kiss him. 

”Dorms,” Kevin says when he breaks away, leaving Jean with a dazed expression. It takes him a moment to reply, so Kevin kisses him again. ”Please.” And again. ”Jea- mff.” The third time Jean follows him down, shifting his weight so the seat creaks as Kevin’s shoulders sink further into it. Even through the fabric of Jean’s shirt, the muscles of his back dance against Kevin’s palm with each movement. Kevin grasps at it, desperate for something to hold onto as blood rushes from his head. 

”Right. Dorms,” Jean’s mumbles against Kevin’s lips. When he sits back up his lips are rosy and swollen, and it takes all of Kevin’s self-restraint to not pull him back down again. 

*

It’s been more than a year since Jean transferred, but his side of the dorm room is still empty. Save for the second bed, there are no signs that Jeremy is sharing the room with anyone at all. Right now, it doesn’t really matter, though. Because a bed is all they need, and Kevin moves towards it as soon as they enter the room. 

Within a couple of steps, Jean’s hands land on his shoulders from behind. Without a word, they steer Kevin towards the other side of the room. There, the walls are decked out in Trojan merchandise, and there are piles of clothes on the floor. The bedsheets are a vivid red, just as unmade as they were when Kevin arrived a couple of days ago. 

“Wrong direction,” Kevin says, and stops so suddenly that Jean’s body presses against him. Something moves against the back of his head, and Jean’s voice sounds a little muffled when he answers.

“Are you sure?” Jean’s face appears on his shoulder, chin resting against the back of his own hand. “He’d never know.” 

“Absolutely not.” While the proposal seems tempting enough, Kevin knows Jean would never let him live it down. Back when they were still in the Nest, Kevin’s admiration for Jeremy had been an unending source of amusement to Jean. With his transfer to USC, the teasing has only increased. 

“I thought you’d be into it,” Jean says, lowering his voice as he adds: “He would be.” But Kevin shakes his head, and Jean brings him around so they are face to face. In the same motion, Kevin turns the both of them further so that when he takes a step backwards, it’s towards the other bed instead. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, even though the thought of it definitely spurs something deep within him. “I’m not going to disrespect someone’s personal space like that.” Back at Palmetto, he has the top bunk, a very conscious decision since Andrew and Neil became involved. 

”Never?” Jean crowds him, following each step so they remain chest to chest. ”Not even mine?” The back of Kevin’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he drops down on it at once. It squeals beneath his weight, even more so when Jean climbs onto his lap. With one knee on each side of Kevin’s thighs, Jean is so tall that Kevin has to lean back to kiss him. 

It’s hungry. Needy. Like every moment they spend apart is spent waiting for when they can be this close again.

With his eyes closed, Kevin reaches for Jean’s shoulders, giving the jacket a gentle push so it will glide off and onto the floor. Once it is off, Jean breaks the kiss to struggle out of his shirt without losing balance, and Kevin does the same. 

A thousand times, Kevin has seen Jean like this; chest bare and panting. Still, every time he is overcome with such want that he can’t help but pull Jean close. Surely Jean must be able to feel his heart as it beats with such force that it threatens to break his rib cage from within. 

Further down, below Jean’s blessed torso, there is a button hiding the zipper of Jean’s pants. A simple, ordinary button. Yet, Kevin’s fingers have never felt thicker or less nimble than when he fumbles with it. All the while Jean scatters wet kisses along his neck. 

When it finally gives, the zipper follows immediately, and as a reward white cotton peeks out from behind it. 

It only takes a tug on the pants for Jean to catch on. Within a moment he’s on his feet, leaving him alone on the edge of the bed. 

Jean steps out of his pants, but he doesn’t return at once. Instead, he bends down right by the bed and resurfaces with the jacket in hand. 

“I could wear it, you know,” he says, and puts it on before Kevin has the time to answer. 

The sight of it short circuits something. While Kevin’s mouth opens, no words come out. 

In a way, it looks like it always does, with the red contrasting Jean’s dark hair in a way the Raven Black never did. But on the other hand, where it hangs open it reveals not Jean’s usual shirt but his naked chest. 

It’s impossible for Kevin’s eyes not to drift further down. Jean is in nothing but his boxers, the contours of his excitement pressing against the thin cotton fabric. 

“What?” Jean grins when Kevin swallows, pulling at the jacket to make sure it falls the way he wants it to. 

“It fits you,” Kevin manages, because it does. Not only is it a constant reminder that Jean isn’t a Raven anymore, but by some stroke of magic, the loose fit of it accentuates how well built he actually is. He looks like the statue of David, like each crease and corner of his body has been carefully chiselled out. Even the scars that stretch across his thighs and chest, even over the narrow patch of skin between stomach and groin, look like they have been painted on his torso to complete an image of perfection. 

So Kevin reaches out, blinded by the light before him, and the moment Jean climbs back on top of him he flips them around. 

The jacket pools beneath Jean as he arches his back, allowing Kevin’s eager hands to pull his underwear down. It leaves Jean entirely nude, save for the jacket, splayed beneath Kevin like a piece of art on private display. 

He takes Jean in his hand, leaning forward to kiss his chest. With each stroke, Jean’s breathing grows more shallow. 

There are hands in his hair. All he sees is skin: sweaty and stretching as Jean writhes in pleasure. He hears nothing but his own breathing and Jean’s moans. 

“Kevin-” The grip on his hair fastens, and Kevin looks up. His name in Jean’s mouth is broken, almost lost between the filthy sounds; just like Kevin imagined it all those years ago.

“Jean,” he says, dragging his tongue along the salty skin that would taunt him in the Nest’s locker room. 

Another moan. Louder, changing pitch like a cry. 

The rhythmic motion grows jerky and uncontrolled as Jean spills into Kevin’s hand.

“Shit,” Jean mumbles under his breath. French, again. His eyes are closed, mouth falling half-open. He runs his tongue along his lips, and Kevin is so turned on it hurts. 

With his dripping hand, he squeezes Jean’s body. Whenever he can reach, he leaves it sticky and wet; from the skin over his ribs to the insides of his thighs. Meanwhile, his other hand struggles with the zipper of his own pants.

He stands up on his knees to push them down just beneath his hips. When he finally grips himself, the pleasure is so strong and sudden that it almost pushes him over the edge.

In the Nest, Riko was never far away. Whenever Kevin would touch himself, or was touched by someone else, it had to be quiet. Only the barest breathing, what little he couldn’t help, would escape him. Now Jean lies beneath him, wearing an expression of pure bliss, and Kevin lets himself be loud. 

Jean’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes dimmed, but he is wearing the same crooked smile he did by the car. The one that says that when he climbs out from beneath Kevin, it is not to merely wash up. 

Instead, he gets up on his knees as well, so they are face to face. Then he dips down to all fours, and that is all Kevin can take. 

He isn’t sure if it is the promise of Jean’s mouth around him that makes him come. 

Or if it is the way the jacket folds along Jean’s spine, exposing his lower back where not even the California sun has touched him. 

Maybe it is just the sight of him, face down and back curved, _USC Trojans_ written in gold across his back. 

**Author's Note:**

> please someone post more kevjean im starving


End file.
